Chapter Nine
The campaign of terror that had been kindled in Lebethron to sweep across Middle earth from Lossarnach to Eden Ardhon finally arrived in Emyn Arnen.
When Eowyn, Lady of Ithilien, was delivered the news
that an army of Wainriders and Rhovanians
were approaching Emyn Arnen
from a northerly direction, she almost laughed at the masterful strategy of the
Confederacy’s leader. The attack upon Lossarnach had rightly drawn away the
bulk of Gondor’s forces to defend the vale and to reinforce the fortifications
at Gondor. Until that threat was made known to them, it had been assumed by all
that when war came to the lands of the
However, with the threat appearing to be directed at
Lossarnach, the armies had left Ithilien, led by Imrahil to answer the king’s
call to arms to defend the city at all costs. Only a third of the army still
remained in Emyn Arnen for
it did not seem possible that the enemy could be at two places at once.
Unfortunately, it was that assumption that left Ithilien in the situation it
now faced. Reports, erratic as they were, spoke of widespread strife across
Middle earth. Her own homeland of Rohan had fallen under attack, the
Now, they were faced with the news from the Rangers
that the Wainriders were marching upon Emyn Arnen with an army of
warriors from Rhovanian. Word had been sent to Gondor
and Lossarnach of the threat approaching Ithilien but it was difficult to
discern where their forces were at this time for the enemy had been leading
them on a merry chase indeed. Still, Eowyn was confident that Emyn Arnen’s defences would hold
because a healthy contingent of soldiers still remained in Ithilien and in
particular around Emyn Arnen
itself.
As soon as the news reached them of the impending
attack, Eowyn had sent out word to all settlements to abandon their homes for
safe havens until the enemy was dwelt with. Some took to the foothills of Ephel Duath while others
retreated to the stronghold at Henneth Annum.
Most however, flocked to Emyn Arnen,
believing the only safest protection would come from the armies stationed there
already. Their fear was no stranger to Eowyn, who in her time suffered
similar experiences during the War of the Ring.
The former White Lady of Rohan moved swiftly to
counter the anxiety of her people by instilling in them the hope that they were
lost and that the armies of Ithilien were more than capable of defending them
against the scourge marching from the north. In truth, she believed it
herself. The armies of Ithilien were in much better stead to match the Wainriders then the Rohirrim were
against the overwhelming numbers of Saruman’s army of the White Hand during the
War of the Ring.
Once the countryside of Ithilien was removed of its
people, the armies retreated to Emyn Arnen preparing to defend the stronghold from the invaders
by taking advantage of the mountainous terrain that was the ruling centre of
Ithilien. Reinforcements would take little more than a week to arrive
from Gondor and Lossarnach but while the fortress of Emyn
Arnen was nowhere as formidable as the Hornburg, it was well secured and could withstand a siege
until the Prince of Ithilien returned. After all, the last war had ensured that
the numbers of the Wainriders were sufficiently
depleted and the men of Rhovanian were unseasoned
warriors in this particular arena of battle.
Eowyn had no intention of fighting though the decision had
been a difficult one to make. For the first time in her life, she was forced to
concede that it was necessary for her to step aside and let others fight for
her. It was a hard decision to make for one was self-sufficient as she. All her
life, Eowyn had been forced to endure the belief that women should be protected
and even though women of Rohan were not above picking up a sword, it was
something that they were not called upon to do. Her prowess with the sword was
something that she had learnt in secret, her only confidant the brother she
loved dearly. Even at the Battle of Pelennor, she was forced to ride with the
Rohirrim in disguise where she distinguished herself in battle despite the loss
of Theoden.
Now, she had to make a conscious decision to yield
because it was not merely her life that was held in the balance but also the
life of the babe slumbering inside of her.
In the weeks since her husband’s departure, little had
changed in her body that allowed anyone else to guess that she was with child.
Eowyn knew she should have told Faramir the truth prior to his departure but
she feared that doing so would make it harder for him to leave. However, it now
appeared that the war was not going to be ended swiftly and he needed to know
that there was something greater than both of them from which to draw hope. As
the days progressed, Eowyn began to look forward to telling him and remembered
how pleased he had been when she suggested naming their first child after his
beloved brother, Boromir.
She worried a little about the attack coming, aware
that in every engagement there was risk, but the contingent advancing upon them
were reportedly equal to the forces that would be defending Emyn
Arnen. Like the rest of Ithilien’s
war masters, Eowyn surmised that this attack was just
another effort by the Easterling Confederacy to show the
The fortress and watchtower, known as the Eastern Eye
and home to the Prince of Ithilien was constructed upon the hills of Emyn Arnen and sat almost at the
peak of this slight range. In the days before Hurin
had been made the Ruling Steward, Emyn Arnen was the traditional home of the Steward of Gondor.
Built in the years following the
In the year 2002 of the Third Age, the Witch King who
had led the destruction at Angmar struck at Minas Ithil and took the Gondorian city for his master Sauron,
bestowing upon it the name of Minas Morgul. The conflict which was to end
with the death of King Eärnur often found its
direction utilising the intelligence gathered by the watchers of the Eastern
Eye and during the course of the fighting, its walls had been the last safe
refuge for the people who dwelt in Ithilien.
After the death of Eärnur
and the ascendancy of Hurin, the Eastern Eye was
abandoned because Gondor was too weakened to maintain a permanent fighting
force within its walls. With the darkness of Mordor spreading outwards, many of
the folk who resided in
Perched almost upon the
The highest point in the Eastern Eye was a stone spire
that rose above the fortress, providing an unimpeded view of the surrounding
terrain for many leagues. A great horn occupied the space within the guard
tower. When sounded, there was not a corner of Emyn Arnen that would not hear its alert. The top of the
spire bore the ring of a walkway wide enough for several men. This had been an
added construction, built when the Eastern Eye found itself contending with
Mordor, in particular the Witch King and his flying Winged Beasts.
While Faramir had turned the palatial residence of the
Eastern Eye into a place of beauty for his bride, there were some parts of it
that retained its martial appearance. The Lord of Ithilien had lived far too
long with the threat of enemies at his borders to be capable of allowing peace
to make him complacent. In between the canyon of stone and the tall
spire, was a residence as royal as any might be, befitting the lord and lady of
the realm, yet both were too accustomed to war to do away with the
fortifications.
Eowyn had been more than ready to lead her people to the
large halls beneath the Eastern Eye where refugees in the past had flocked
together in safety during great battles, when she heard the great horn booming
in her ears with its baleful din. It sounded like the songs of the tree shepherds
whose voices could be heard from the forests of Fangorn. She felt a pang of
longing as she ushered the last of her people into the underground
sanctuary, wishing very much to join the battle before common sense prevailed.
It was her responsibility to protect her baby and if doing so meant allowing
others to protect her instead, then Eowyn would do so even if it were
begrudgingly.
Following the winding staircase into the darkness
below the fortress, Eowyn was more than prepared to leave the warriors of Ithilien
to their battle when she heard above her, the horn blaring once again. She
paused in her advance below and puzzled at this second issue for the sounding
of the great horn was not to be taken lightly. Though it may seem like a simple
mechanism for alerting their warriors, there were complexities to its signal
that was a language on its own and to her hearing at this moment, the great
horn was telling her that something unexpected had taken place.
Despite the promises made to protect herself, Eowyn abandoned
her descent momentarily and hurried up the steps, determined to learn what
warranted the second sounding of the great horn. When she emerged on the
surface once more, she saw that the urgency that was evident upon the faces of
all warriors had changed drastically. She watched them for a moment, taking in
the organised chaos that had become pandemonium. It appeared that suddenly,
their preparations were no longer enough. More and more swords and arrows were
being raced to the warriors on the wall. Spears and pikes were hoisted to the
walls with the weapons kept in reserve now produced for apparent use.
Elsewhere, the great doors were being fortified and
braced, not merely with wood but wagons and barrels were being piled against
the entrance, ensuring that even if the thick wooden doors would yield, no one
would be able to penetrate the barricade being placed before it. If the
sudden need for more fortifications were not evidence enough for some
alteration in their circumstances, then the panic and anxiety she saw in the
faces of the men who rushed past her without looking up to notice her presence
was proof enough. Eowyn felt her heard begin to pound in alarm and saw
Beregond, the captain of the guard stationed against the wall, shouting orders
to his men.
Eowyn picked up her skirts and hurried up the steps to the
wall, determined to learn the truth. Her heart was pounding so fiercely
that she suspected she knew the answer even if it would take Beregond to
confirm it. Praying inwardly that she was wrong, she made her way to Ithilien’s trusted captain barely earning notice from Ithilien’s warriors who were too busy with their
preparations. As she neared Beregond, the former soldier of Gondor lifted his
gaze and caught sight of her before his expression evaporated into shock.
“Lady Eowyn!” Beregond
exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You should be below with the rest of the
women and children!”
“You know perfectly well that I am not just another
woman Captain,” she said firmly, forgiving him his reaction because she was
more interested in what they were facing. “Now what is happening? I hear the
great horn sounding again and it does not appear to be the signal of the
first.”
“No it is not, my lady,” Beregond answered, reaching
the conclusion that he did not have time to argue with her about her safety
because she would only turn a deaf ear and because at this moment, the presence
of the shield maiden of Rohan was not an unwelcome thing.
“Look to the north,” he instructed Eowyn.
Eowyn followed his gaze and saw the army of the Wainriders of Rhun. Despite
having seen worse at Helm’s Deep and the battle of Pelennor, the army, four
thousand strong, appeared quite formidable indeed. However, it should have been
no shock to them because they had anticipated this very number when news had
come from the Rangers of this eminent attack. These were large numbers to say
the least, but there was enough troops left behind in Ithilien, when Faramir
and Imrahil had set out to Lossarnach, to hold the Eastern Eye in such a
conflict. They had been prepared for it. What had changed that struck so much
fear into the hearts of these seasoned soldiers?
“It is the army of the Wainriders,”
Eowyn nodded, “it is what we expected.”
“Come with me,” Beregond spoke as he started to move
away from her. The captain travelled along the length of the wall, striding
past the soldiers arming their quivers with as much arrows as it could carry,
ensuring that other weapons were in close reach other than the swords in their
scabbards. Eowyn called out to Beregond, insisting that the captain tell her
where they were going. It was not only until they had reached the southern wall
did he paused and regarded the lady.
“Look there,” he said simply.
Eowyn turned to the south and felt her breath catch in her
throat, realising at last what had been the cause of the panic that was
sweeping through the fortress. In the distance was the Easterling army. She
knew that they were Easterlings because the army moving towards them like a
swarm across the plain was surrounded by at least three dozen mumakils. The
Easterlings were not alone, she saw the banner of the black serpent flying high
above the invaders and knew that the Haradrim were also there. Her breath
caught in her throat when she realised that she was looking at a force almost
equal to the one she and her people had faced at Helm’s Deep.
“That was their plan,” she whispered softly.
“My lady?” Beregond stared at her.
“It was their plan,” Eowyn met his gaze somewhat
dazed. “They attacked Lebethron, Lossarnach, Edoras and possibly Eden Ardhon to
scattered our forces across Middle earth. It was Ithilien that they wanted all
along. The other attacks were merely to draw away a good portion of our forces
instead of keeping them here to protect our eastern borders. Ithilien is full
of grain, north and south. From here, they can not only feed their army but
they can also feed their people. Their lands are under threat of famine, they
need Ithilien for its crops but so long as the Eastern Eye is fortified, they
could never pillage it safely.”
“We have sent word to Lord Faramir,” Beregond
answered, “he will return soon with our armies.” It did not occur to
Beregond to doubt her speculations because he had been captain of the guard in
Ithilien long enough to know that the Lady Eowyn knew a good deal about war
craft and often sat at her husband’s right hand to provide opinions in such
matters. Lord Faramir loved her not only for her courage but also because she
had the strategic acumen of a warrior.
“There are almost ten thousand warriors converging
upon us like a pack of wolves. We but number two thousand in all totality, our
ability to hold the Eastern Eye becomes uncertain with such odds,” she met his
gaze.
Beregond opened his mouth to answer but Eowyn gave him no
chance to speak.
“However, we will hold this fortress,” she said
firmly, walking past him. “If I have discerned this plan then I am certain that
Faramir and Aragorn will do so soon enough if they have not already. We will
prevail until those reinforcements arrives.”
“They will not breach this walls my lady,” Beregond
spoke with more confidence than he felt but neither he nor the Lady Eowyn were
willing to admit this fact to each other.
Faith in their ability to overcome would be a far
greater tool to their survival than all the weapons in Ithilien. Without
speaking the words, Eowyn and Beregond made an unspoken pact that no matter
what happened during the course of the battle, their faith in the ability to
overcome would be unshakeable. The warriors who battled this night had to
believe that no matter how strong the enemy appeared to be. Eowyn remembered
how Theoden had fought at Helm’s Deep. They had held for as long they did
because of his unshakeable belief that they would prevail and she was
determined that it would be the same here. They would survive.
“I supposed it would be useless for me to tell you
that you would be safer below?” Beregond met her eyes with a faint smile after
the moment had passed and the understanding between them was cemented.
“Even my lord would not be able to keep me out of this
battle,” Eowyn returned with a faint smile. “What makes you think you will
succeed where he could not?”
“I was a fool to assume such,” he replied with
unhidden admiration. “I would have you safely below, my lady, but you slew the
Witch King and fought with us at the Battle of Pelennor. You are too skilled to
be wasted waiting below.”
“Thank you,” Eowyn answered graciously, but this was
one battle she wished she did not have to fight.
***********
Dernhelm breathes once more.
Gazing into the mirror of her chambers, Eowyn
had dressed alone and tried to ignore the overwhelming sound of silence within
the empty halls of the royal residence. In stark contrast to the quiet within,
the sounds of preparation beyond its walls were at a juggernaut pace. The enemy
was not far, she surmised by the haste in which everyone was moving. She would
need to join them soon. Tying her long golden hair into a thick braid, she
then turned her attention to the most important aspect of her preparation.
Adjusting the belt around her waist, she ensured that
the sheath of her sword hung comfortably from her hip. Once it was secured,
Eowyn slipped Anglachel into its scabbard. The sword, forged by the Dark Elf
Eol, had come to her when she and Arwen had set out on the quest to keep the
ancient enemy Glaurung from infusing the spirit of Morgoth in Arwen’s unborn
child. They had retrieved the weapon after slaying the worms guarding it and
then used the weapon to slay Glaurung himself. Arwen had made a gift of
the sword to Eowyn after the quest was done, as a gesture of gratitude for her
courage.
When Eowyn looked into the
mirror and saw the Shield Maiden of Rohan staring back at her, she knew she was
ready at last for the battle ahead. She turned to leave the chamber shared by
herself and her lord when suddenly, the will to leave faded. In a daze, her
eyes drifted to her belly, her hand leaving the hilt of her sword to caress
gently the slight swell of her stomach. No one else in Emyn
Arnen knew and if she died today, they would never
know.
“I did not mean for this to happen,” she said softly,
as if the child nesting comfortably in her belly could hear and understand her.
“I did not wish to fight but the choice is taken from me in this. I am
what I am, my child. I am the daughter of kings, and it is has been in my lot
for as long as I can remember to be what I am. I no longer know how to deny
it. For you I would have lowered my sword but the battle beyond these
walls will not allow me the chance to do nothing. So I must go and risk both of
us. I wish that it had not come to this, I wish that your father were here and
I grieve that I did not tell him about you because he deserved to know the
glimmer of hope that you were, even briefly. I wish that I were different but I
am not. They are our people and they need me.”
And with that, Eowyn looked up and hurried out of the
chamber to join the battle.
**************
In stony silence, the defenders of Ithilien watched as
the Wainriders reached the foot of Emyn Arnen and advanced no
further. The enemy lowered their shields and their weapons, keeping themselves
beyond the reach of Ithilien’s archers and simply
waited. They made no move towards the fortress and this lack of movement was
harder against the nerves of those on the wall, then open combat. This
limbo seemed to breed greater anxiety upon the warriors of Ithilien though it
was no mystery why the enemy had chosen to wait. The noonday sun rose
high in the clouds and crossed across the sky into afternoon before the wait
for both sides came to and end.
The Easterlings and the Haradrim, having met at the
banks of the Anduin as each army neared Emyn Arnen, now moved as one and made their way northwards at a
rapid pace. They were led by their mumakils whose size and strength was capable
of accomplishing what a thousand men armed with battering rams could not, and
that was to break open the gates of the fortress. They reached the Wainriders and the army of Rhun as the afternoon grew late
and as the sun began to set, turned their eyes to their quarry in the twilight
hour. Once the enemy was gathered in its terrible numbers, the defenders of
Ithilien held their breaths in anticipation of the inevitable order to
proceed. Warriors rushed to the gate, armed with long spears and equally
sharp pikes, painfully aware that if the gate was breached then the Eastern Eye
would be lost and perhaps with it, Ithilien itself.
“UNTASARE!”
The word had no recognition to the people of the Westerness for the language was that of that Haradrim but
of it’s meaning there could be no doubt. The earth shuddered as the great horde
began its swift advance across the hills framing the peak of Emyn Arnen. They moved across the
land like an ocean swell, a tide of bodies rushing to meet the shore. The
mumakils numbers were divided with one contingent taking the beaten path of
dirt through the hills that would lead them straight to the main entrance of
the fortress while the other advanced with their army. The great beasts curled
their trunks and raised their heads as they charged, dozens of men borne on
their backs, ensuring that once they broke through, there would be warriors to
flood the opening.
It was decided that there were too many of the enemy
to meet them on the field so the defense would take
place on the wall. Archers lined its length, with bows armed, ready to release
a deadly barrage upon the enemy as soon as they neared. Beregond took charge
of directing the archers while Eowyn hurried along the wall to the gates
because she was certain that it was there that they were at their most
vulnerable. She saw the awesome might of the mumakils moving up the path
towards the great doors and knew that the warriors charged with barring that
entry to the enemy were rushing to brace the door even as she stood watching.
“Release!” Beregond’s voice snapped her out of her
observation and she turned to see a wall of arrows surging through the air like
a black storm. They slammed into the enemy with such force that the sudden halt
of so many was like a ripple in the tide. As they fell to the ground, the
others behind them forged on ahead, trampling them underfoot without concern.
Though the journey took them over hilly terrain, it did not hinder their rapid
progress at all and they scaled the hills separating them from the fortress
with surprising speed. More arrows tore into their numbers and the cycle of
death was repeated as they neared the base of the wall. Some had paused to
return arrows of their own.
Eowyn flinched seeing crossbows employed, thinking how much
like Melia’s weapon they looked. It was easy to forget Melia’s origins
because of their friendship but the lady of Eden Ardhon had made no secret of
it. Melia was not ashamed of where she had come from, merely saddened by the
way her people had been moulded to suit Morgoth’s and then later on, Sauron’s
purpose. Eowyn wondered what Melia must think of all this and hoped that she
would survive enough to see her friend again.
A scream brought her back to the moment when she saw
an arrow embed itself in one of the soldiers near her. His scream followed him
to the ground when he toppled over the edge of the wall and landed hard.
Eowyn immediately took cover behind the wall and crawled to avoid the reach of
arrows parlaying back and forth between invaders and defenders. The enemy had
yet to reach the wall but she could hear the rumble of their approach growing
louder in her ears with each second. Upon reaching the gate, she saw the
bracing continuing and the barricade growing so large that even with the doors
were to yield, the enemy would have difficulty entering.
Looking over the edge of the walls, she saw the
mumakils were making better time than their human counterparts. Their journey
along the road created a cloud of dust around them, making it difficult to see
the exact number of men they carried. Their size was so enormous that they
stood almost the height of the wall and Eowyn wondered if it was wholly
possible to keep them out. They were not far now, within the reach of
arrows and Eowyn knew the order to shoot would have to come soon. They had to
stops the animals from reaching the gates because she suspected that despite
all the precautions, the barricades would not hold.
“Shoot now!” Eowyn shouted.
“We must wait until they are closer!” One of the minor
captains leading the defense of the gates protested.
“You cannot afford to!” Eowyn barked back sharply, her
eyes shifting back and forth from the mumakils to the man before her. “You must
keep as many of them away from the gates as possible. I do not know if we will
be able to stop one, let alone five! NOW SHOOT!”
The captain wrestled with the decision briefly, his
face showing his anxiety at what was coming at them. The thick horns alone
would have little trouble spearing the wooden doors, to say nothing of what
their physical strength was capable of doing.
“We do not have a great deal of time!” Eowyn insisted,
prompting him into a decision.
“Release the arrows!” He shouted turning away.
The archers let loose their arrows, causing a deadly
barrage to strike the charging mumakils. The beasts bellowed in pain as some of
the arrows met their mark but their thick hides made any serious damage
impossible. The bombardment had better affect upon the men perched upon the
creatures’ backs then the mumakils themselves. Their charge did not halt
despite the arrows that could be seen protruding from their bodies, trailing
rivulets of blood down their flanks. If anything the pain seemed to make
them run faster and their bellowing grew louder and louder as they approached
the door.
Eowyn and the warriors stationed on the wall quickly
grabbed spears while others armed themselves with pikes, as the distance
between the gates and the mumakils grew shorter. They had to avoid being struck
by archers riding the backs of the beasts, attempting to clear the path to the
gate. She flung her spear as far as it would go and had some measure of success
as the weapon struck the first in the throat. However, while the pain
registered upon the creature, it did little to hinder its advance. The beast
was simply too big to be halted in that fashion. Eowyn was starting to wonder
if anything could.
“Brace yourselves!” She heard someone shout.
Eowyn quickly grabbed hold of the stone edge as she saw the
distance between the mumakils and the gate close.
“Archers! We must kill as many of the riders as we
can!” She shouted to anyone listening. It seemed like the more achievable goal
then attempting to stop the mumakils.
Her advice seemed to be accepted as wise for a phalanx
of arrows was soon surging across the sky towards the enemy. It struck
many of the riders upon the back of the mumakils as the beast near the gate and
sent many falling to their deaths after they were pierced by arrows.
Unfortunately, this success was small in comparison to the calamity that would
befall the fortress now that the mumakils were upon them. The beasts slammed
into the gates so hard that even the stone pillars beside it shuddered in
protest. Eowyn could see chunks of mortar coming loose from the cracks where
the stone slabs met. She was forced to hold fast or be thrown to the
ground like many of the men on the wall. The wooden gates strained against the
impact but managed to hold for the moment. The collision renewed attempts to
bring down the animals but the mumakils were quick to resume their relentless
pounding. The defenders were now hurling anything they could lay their hands
upon to stop the beasts from breaking through.
Eowyn hurled spears at the beast that was soon joined by
another and under the heavy assault of these formidable creatures; she could
feel the wall beginning to weaken. The wooden gates were buckling under the
strain of the mumakils’ bombardment. Wood began to splinter despite the best
efforts of the defenders to brace the doors. Unfortunately, it was a losing
battle as the pounding continued without pause until at last, the doors gave
way dull crack of wood tearing apart. Not only did the door give way but the
back of the bracing was snapped in half under the power of the mumakils. Even
the wall to which the doors were attached broke apart with a great heave.
Eowyn felt the weight of the floor give way beneath her,
and only managed to keep herself from being buried under debris of the
collapsing wall because she had dug her nails deep into the stone and refused
to be pulled down. Others were not so fortunate though they were unable to
lament their fate from beneath the pile of stones they had been buried.
Eowyn pulled herself to safety and look below her, hoping that not all who had
fallen had been entombed. Yet she could see no signs of life, no heaving of
dust and rock to indicate that someone was burrowing out of their prison.
Nor was there any time to dig them out if any were injured because once the
wall had crumbled, the enemy had directed its attention from the frontal
assault to the infiltration of the newly created opening.
The invasion of the fortress appeared to split on two
fronts, from the diverted force attempting to scale the walls, and the
contingent of warriors riding the backs of the mumakils had broken through the
gates. The beasts forced themselves past the opening, ferrying their
masters deeper into the walls of the Eastern Eye. Once within the perimeter of
the walls, the Easterlings lowered themselves to the ground with ropes. Eowyn
watched in growing horror at the growing number of enemy filling the floor
below her. With a heavy heart, she began to see the fortress was taken; that
the beloved home she shared with Faramir would fall.
Valor did not come without a price, she told herself and
unsheathed her sword. Along the wall, she could see the enemy beginning
to overwhelm the exhausted warriors of Ithilien who had fought bravely and
continued to fight, even though each of them that fell was replaced by another
enemy troops penetrating their front. It would be a fight to death, she decided
as she rushed forward to ensure that she did not go to her end without ensuring
a good many of the enemy went with her. Eowyn swung Anglachel at the first
Easterling warrior that came into sight, taking his head away from his
shoulders in one single strike. The decapitated skull spun into the air as the
body dropped to the floor without further resistance.
Eowyn did not wait to see where it landed before another
enemy soldier confronted her. The curved blade came at her with the same force
she had delivered to his predecessor. She blocked it easily, no stranger
to a stronger opponent because her sparring partner had been a man of the Mark,
a race of physical strength in comparison to these Easterlings who were lean,
agile and relied more upon cunning than power to fight. Unfortunately for
him, being a woman, Eowyn’s fighting skills were an
amalgamation of both. She kicked out with her foot as their swords met,
the ball of her heel meeting the soft flesh of his stomach and driving him
backwards, breaking their connection. Whilst he was off balance, she surged
forward in a powerful offensive. He tried to recover the weakness but Eowyn
never gave him the change and tore open his chest before he could raise his
sword to deflect her blow.
Realising that a formidable warrior had entered their
midst, at least three of them charged her. Eowyn dodged the blow of the first
as he struck. Slipping under his blade, she took a swipe at the second closing
in on her, slicing his throat with a well-coordinated strike. Blood spilled
forth from his bleeding throat as he dropped to his knees. Eowyn turned around
and caught the blade of the first, forcing him back with an equally powerful
strike. He staggered slightly but did not falter and returned with even more
ferocity. Eowyn defended herself capably before her senses felt the presence of
the third, waiting for the moment to inflict the killing blow. Her eyes turned
just in time to see a sword raised over her head, the blade about to come down
upon her skull. She had little chance to do anything as she was still fighting
his companion, and was struck by this terrible feeling of failure because she
was about to die.
Suddenly, the point of an arrow burst through his
chest.
The sudden death of his comrades distracted both her
opponent and Eowyn for a brief instance but it was Eowyn who recovered first
because it was her life that had suddenly been given a chance of continuing.
She smashed a fist wrapped in a gauntlet of mail into his faceplate, causing
blood to spill from the seams and impaled him with Anglachel before he had
opportunity to do anything else. Without wasting any time, she promptly shoved
him over the edge of the walkway, not bothering to see his fate upon hitting
the ground. Turning to the man who had died, Eowyn’s
eyes noticed something she had been unable to earlier. Her hand flew to the
arrow and ran her thumb across its flight.
It was elven.
Turning sharply in the direction of where it had come,
she saw what the other defenders of Ithilien were now beginning to notice
themselves. In the nearby distance, closing in on the dark forces arrayed
against them was an army of light. Armour shinning like polished gold, astride
horses without saddles, directed by a language man would never understand or be
able to speak, the elves made their arrival.
For a moment, Eowyn thought she was dreaming for an
alliance of men and elves had not existed in three thousand years, not since
the defeat of Sauron when the ring had been cut from his hand. She blinked and
saw that they did not fade like a dream was meant to but were still closing in.
They had begun the slaughter of the enemy with arrows, sending a deadly barrage
that met every mark aimed. The enemy army turned away from the Eastern Eye to
confront this new threat that numbered in the thousands. Eowyn did not think
she would see so many elves in her lifetime. She did not even think that there
were so many left in Middle earth, but it appeared she was wrong. She estimated
an army, at least four thousand strong.
Relief flooded into her being upon seeing the elves
approaching the enemy flank. Now the defenders of Ithilien could focus on
expelling the mumakils from their walls. The enemy had began to drift
away from the wall as they prepared to engage the elves while some still
remained at the wall, dividing their forces even further. A dark shadow
suddenly loomed over her whilst her attention was focussed on the shift of the
battle. Eowyn swung around to meet his new threat and saw herself facing a
mumakils that was charging at the wall, out of control. The beast’s body was a
bloody collection of pikes, spears and arrows. She could see the pain in its
eyes as it rumbled forward.
“JUMP!” She heard someone shout.
Without thinking twice, Eowyn leapt into the air, when
the swaying trunk of the animal struck her hard and swatted her aside like a
fly. Eowyn felt the pain coursing through her body as the ground rushed up to
meet her. Struck by the fear of what was coming, she managed to pull her knees
beneath her chin, and holding her body into a tight ball before she landed,
protecting her child as much as she was capable. She did not even know where
Anglachel had gone, aware only briefly that it was torn from her hands.
Thoughts such as this moved through her mind at the pace of an instant before
she saw the ground reaching for her. Her landing was hard. The pain surged
through her side and progressed across the rest of her, dragging a curtain of
blackness over her entire being until she knew nothing more.
************
For the elves, the attack upon Eden Ardhon was not a
warning of neutrality but a declaration of war.
The race of men, save perhaps the heirs of the Numenor, existed under the belief that the elves were a
peaceful race, beings of starlight that had long ago transcended the ugly
emotions that still plagued all others. The elves were an ideal of purity and
grace, a monument to the splendour of a past golden age that faded rapidly in
decline. Perhaps it was this perception that contributed to the ignorance of
the race’s nature. Serenity and peace was merely a by-product of being ageless.
Once could not live so long without learning nothing and the elves had ample of
time to become better than what they were because they had been provided with immortality
to do so.
The myth had become so prevalent that the reality of
what they once were, had been forgotten. The elves had lived during the worst
ages of Middle earth, they had survived Morgoth and wars that made Sauron’s bid
for power pale in comparison and they did so because they knew how to defend
themselves and they knew how to win despite overwhelming odds. When
wronged, they hungered for battle as thirstily as any other race and they
avenged with as much vigour.
The attack on Eden Ardhon had shaken them to the core
because all were incensed by the arrogance that permitted the enemy to forget
who they were dealing with. The enemy had dared to believe that the elves would
bow down to intimidation when not even Sauron or Morgoth had made them falter
in their course. When Thranduil announced to the Woodland realm what had
happened to Eden Ardhon, the fury displayed by Legolas became a firestorm that
would not burn itself out until the enemy was vanquished. Many of the elves in
the Woodland Realm were kin to those who had been killed or defiled in Eden
Ardhon, and honour demanded that restitution be made in blood.
At East Lorien, similar outrage was expressed.
Celeborn had been easy to convince because Miriel had
been a loyal friend and ally to his wife Galadriel and the dishonour to her
sparked his fury. Haldir, whose feeling for the Lady Melia had simmered
in a deep friendship, shared Legolas need to exact vengeance upon the
Easterlings who presumed to defile the Lady of Eden Ardhon. Within
days, an army that likes of which had not been assembled for many millennia
departed the forest of Mirkwood and made swift journey southwards. They
had not travelled far when they discovered that another army was on the move,
only a few days before them.
It was Legolas who discerned where they were going and
ordered that the army he commanded with Haldir, as his lieutenant, to make
haste, for it appeared Ithilien would need their aid. Thranduil and
Celeborn had remained in their respective realms, preferring to allow Legolas
and Haldir to lead their armies since they were needed to rule. Word had also
been sent to Imladris that should Elladan
and Elrohir choose to involve themselves within this conflict then Rohan would
benefit from their aid now that the goblins of Moria had allied themselves with
the Dunlendings. The lands of Rohan had to be guarded now that the
formidable cavalry of the Rohirrim was divided between providing aid to Gondor
as well as guarding their own borders.
In the meantime, they had work to do in Ithilien.
Legolas knew that the Gondorian army was not far away. Upon discovering the
presence of an army making its way to Ithilien, Legolas had sent riders at best
speed to intercept the Gondorian army and alert them of the danger. Whether
or not those forces arrived at Emyn Arnen in time did not matter much in the scheme of things
because the elves would reach the besieged fortress first.
Upon approaching the fortress called the Eastern Eye,
Legolas with his keen eyes had seen Faramir’s lady, Eowyn battling a trio of
enemy warriors. The elf could not help but admire the skill of the woman to be
able to defend herself, because her swordsmanship was easily one of the best he
had ever seen. However, the numbers were against her and as he saw the one of
her attackers preparing to deliver a fatal blow, the archer immediately drew
his an arrow from his bow and dispatched quickly her would be killer.
“Haldir!” He called out to the march warden in elvish.
“Take half our people to help with the defence of the wall! The rest of you
follow me. The fortress has been breached by the mumakils. Unless we drive them
out, there will tear it apart!”
The army of elves separated like a flock of birds
parted against the wind. Legolas saw Haldir urging those behind him to charge
at the enemy at the wall. The prince of the Woodland Realms and the Lord
of Eden Ardhon was determined to kill every last invader within the walls of
Ithilien because mumakils were the beasts of burden for Easterlings. Legolas
was almost certain it was they who had invaded Eden Ardhon and defiled his
beloved Melia. As he led the charge towards the breached gates, gapping
open like wound, Legolas was determined to make the enemy pay in blood for what
they had done to her.
He carved himself a path to the gates in bodies as
arrow after arrow escaped Galadriel’s gift to him, meeting their mark with each
effort. Bodies felt away like the wind blowing away leaves until he passed
through the ruin gate and began to turn his attention to the mumakils. The
beasts were big and they towered over the horses flooding the fortress the same
ways the enemy had done earlier. Under the direction of their masters, the huge
beasts were now assaulting the protective walls around the fortress with similar.
Ithilien’s warriors were having great difficulty
trying to defend the wall against the invaders when they had to fear the mumakils.
Legolas thought quickly and an idea came to him at
that moment. He searched the chaos of fighting around him and saw what he
needed. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Legolas removed his sword and cut
his way through to the torch that had so far managed to remain undisturbed.
Once there, he put away his weapon once more and retrieved his bow. Arming it
with an arrow, Legolas lowered the arrowhead into the fire and saw the flame
snaking down the shaft. It did not take long before the arrowhead was burning
with strength and Legolas took aim, his blue eyes fixed upon the beasts’
harness.
Releasing the arrow, Legolas watched as it sailed
through the air and struck the wooden contraption on the mumakil’s
back that held so many of their soldiers who was raining death upon Ithilien
with arrows. The fire of one arrow did not spread as much as Legolas believed
it would so the elf lord delivered another and then more, until he had used so
many arrows that the fires burning on the harness was able to do nothing but
spread. The mumakil’s panic was evident by the bellow
it made upon discovering the proximity of this natural danger to itself.
Swaying about widely, the beast attempted to shake of the burden on its back
that was now billowing with smoke. It smashed through the opening it had
created in a bid to douse the flames, it trunks flaying about in naked panic.
“The rest of you!” Legolas ordered the other elves and
archers capable of hearing him. “Follow my lead. Breath your arrows with flame
and let it fly. If the enemy chooses to remain in this fortress with their
beasts, then we will burn them down!”
The mumakils that Legolas had set alight had completely brought down the
gates and the doorway that held it. As soon as the beasts had cleared the
fortress, it dropped to its knees and then rolled onto its back. The
Easterlings who had not wisely chosen to jump off the creature’s back was
crushed under its tremendous weight as it tried desperately to smother the
flames consuming the offending harness. Their screams cut short with shocking
finality. Legolas’ example soon had many of Ithilien’s
archers, including the elves themselves, making the same assault upon the
mumakils. Terrified that they would meet the same fate as the first, the
mumakils masters prudently withdrew.
Legolas was glad of this but the battle was not done,
the beasts under the mastery of the Easterlings were still dangerous even if he
had driven them out of the immediate vicinity. His use of fire had driven
them out of the fortress but he was not about let any of the Easterlings
ferried on their backs, survive. The beasts were not responsible for the actions
of their masters and Legolas preferred not to harm them if he could avoid it.
Issuing orders to a small portion of the elves riding at his side, Legolas sent
them after the mumakils fleeing the threat of fire. None of the
Easterlings were going to survive this day, not if he had anything to do with
it.
The elves arrival provided much needed spirit to the
defenders of Emyn Arnen who
launched themselves into battle with an unprecedented surge of determination.
Despite the terrible destruction wrought by the mumakils, and the fact that
many of their people lay dead, they were determined to make the enemy pay for
this insult. However if they thought their determination was fierce, then
they were somewhat astonished by the frenzy by which the elves battled their
enemy. The elves were thought to be a dwindling power in Middle earth and
many of the warriors at Emyn Arnen
had never even seen them until now. They carried images of a fair and graceful
folk, compassionate and wise. It was quite sobering to find that the reality
was quite different.
The Easterlings were suffering the brunt of the elves’
fury. It seemed as if every elf who had opportunity to slaughter an
Easterling did so with almost cruel relish. There was vengeance in their
eyes though many defenders were uncertain what had caused such rage. It was
rather frightening to see the elves sweeping through the enemy, armed with
daggers, swords and bows like a scourge that might have been envisioned by
Morgoth himself. Their attacks were almost frenzied and so violent that
after a time, the warriors of Emyn Arnen began to see real fear in the eyes of the enemy.
They appeared to prefer dying at the hands of men
rather than elves. As the Easterling bodies began to pile, the warriors
of Ithilien could well understand why.
*************
Danallar of Harad was beginning to
see that he had made a fatal mistake.
His gamble to keep the elves out of the conflict with
the Reunified Kingdom had not only failed but had ignited the fires of fury he
had never seen in the race before this. It had been three thousand years since
the elves had gone to war and Danallar had hoped that
the years of peace had inured the race to the desire for battle. Their
departure from Middle Earth seemed to indicate the truth in this belief. He had
thought the attack upon Eden Ardhon would strengthen the elves resolve to
depart Middle Earth, not embark upon a path of violence that was starting to
bear all the marks of a holy crusade.
As he watched Legolas Greenleaf leading the elven army,
inciting any elf in hearing distance to kill every Easterling in sight, he
began to understand the full weight of his error. The elves would turn the tide
and unlike Gondor and Rohan, would not stop when they were forced back to their
own lands. It was entirely possible that they might pursue the
Confederacy back to home soil. That possibility shook the leader of the war
effort to the core for he had not anticipated this outcome. However, seeing the
fury of the elves told Dallanar he could not take the
chance. It was Legolas who was leading them, Legolas whose rage was the match
that had set the others aflame.
It was Legolas he had to kill.
***************
When Legolas heard the enemy calling for retreat, he
was almost disappointed.
He had lost count of how many he had killed this day
but was certain that if he chose to tally the number, he would have won his
contest with Gimli a dozen times over. Yet despite the blood on his hands, his
rage was far from abated. All he had to do to set his anger aflame once more
was to think about his wife, the despair on her face after they had violated
her and killed Anna in front of her. His anger surged through his veins with
such intensity he could barely contain it. Across the Eastern Eye, Legolas
could see the large number of enemy forces becoming large number of dead bodies
and still it did not feel as if it was enough.
The mumakils had been driven
away from the fortress and now the beasts stood placidly at the foothill of Emyn Arnen now that their masters
were killed. He saw the warriors of Emyn Arnen were now on the offensive, driving the enemy from
their walls. They had fought a good battle, Legolas thought to himself, though
he was somewhat concerned for he had not sighed Lady Eowyn since the elves
arrived at the fortress. He offered a silent prayer to the Valar
that she was safe. Across the length of the Eastern Eye, the enemy was
departing in great numbers. Legolas led Arod to the ruined gate, preparing to issue an order to
give pursuit when something tugged at the edge of his senses and forced him to
turn.
Someone slammed so hard into his body that the elf did
not have time to utter a cry. The force of his attack was such that he was
unseated from the saddle and landed heavily on the ground below. Arod snorted in dismay, unable to do anything but step back
so as to avoid trampling his master. Legolas shook his head to rid himself of
disorientation when suddenly, a boot slammed into his side breaking ribs with
one swift kick. The elf let out a cry of pain but recovered in time to see a
shape looming over him, a sword held in the air preparing to deliver a fatal
blow.
Legolas flipped upright and stepped back just as the
blade came down on the space where he would have been. The elf unsheathed the
daggers he carried on his back for his sword had fallen out of his grip when
this new enemy had waylaid him. Legolas stared for a moment at the tall
Easterling warrior glaring at him. The elf recognised him immediately as the
same opponent that Aragorn had battled at Lossarnach. Indeed the wound caused
by Legolas’ arrow was still apparent upon the flesh of his arm. This was
the leader of Easterling Confederacy.
“You are their king,” Legolas stated.
“I am their king,” the enemy answered.
“We have business you and I,” Legolas said icily.
“Indeed we do,” the tall man agreed. “I will kill you
tonight.”
“You may try,” Legolas answered.
The call of retreat was still echoing throughout the
fortress but the man did not move to escape the elf’s presence. Instead, he
came at Legolas swinging. The elf lord dodged the effort easily and slashed at
the enemy’s body with an almost casual swipe. The Easterling king hissed and
spun around, his eyes narrowing for a more cunning attack.
“I plan to honour those who took your wife,” he
sneered, baring his white teeth against the dark flesh of his lips.
He regretted the words as soon as he had spoken them,
he saw something in the elf’s eyes that made him shudder in fear. It was as if
the storm had suddenly been given life from Legolas’ intense fury. It rose to
the surface with shocking speed and before he could question what he was done,
the elf lord was lunging at him.
Legolas struck every blow the Easterling king offered
barely noticing it. He moved with speed only another elf could match and
continued repelling the enemy’s efforts to strike as if he were a child,
fencing for the first time. Legolas was relentless in his attack, driving the
man of Harad back with each contact of steel. He noticed nothing of the battle
raging around him, his world shrinking into a circle inhabited by two beings,
himself and the enemy. Legolas allowed the storm to sweep him away,
relishing its power as it helped him to focus himself as he had never been
before. His mind was so painfully clear, as was his vengeance. Blood was not
enough.
Blood was never going to be enough.
When the king’s blade was finally ripped from his
hands as he lay pinned against the wall, both of Legolas’ daggers against his
skin, the elven lord’s fury seemed to simmer somewhat.
“Go on!” The enemy hissed. “Kill me!”
“It would make things simpler,” Legolas replied,
wanting him to make no mistake that he was conflicted about this. “Take your
head and the war ends with your blood spilling.”
“Then do it,” the king glared at him. “Do it!”
Legolas pushed the blade of one dagger harder against
his throat, until the edge bit skin and caused the enemy to flinch. Legolas
could hear his heart pounding in his chest, could smell the fear and defiance
oozing off his skin and still, it was not enough to sate his hatred for this
man and all he had done, not merely to the elves but to his friends throughout
Middle earth.
“No,” Legolas shook his head. “I will not kill you.”
“Then you are not as strong as I thought,” the king
hissed.
“What is your name?” Legolas asked.
“I did not give Gondor’s king my name, I will not give
it to you.” He replied defiantly.
“Very well,” Legolas answered and took a step back,
his weapons lowering as he stared at Aragorn’s nemesis and the object of his
deep hatred. “I will not kill you. You do not deserve to die just yet. You have
violated my wife and my people because you dared to presume to know elves. In
the days to come, I hope you will come to understand how much of an error you
have made by that assumption. We have been awakened and now that we are
awake, we will not stop until it is your city that burns, your people
that are dead. Do you understand what you have unleashed upon your race?”
The king did not speak because he did know but
could not bear to answer.
“We are coming for you and all who have stood by
you,” Legolas replied. “The war is just beginning.”